


There'll Be Some Changes Made

by JulyFlame



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Interpretation, Canon Compliant, Culture Shock, Early 20th Century Equivalent, Founding of Konoha, Gen, Hashirama enjoys 'modern' technology, Madara hates 'modern' technology, Pre-Konoha Village, Present Tense, Shinobi meet technology, Technology, Uchiha Madara Has Issues, Warring States Period (Naruto), Worldbuilding, no beta we die like izuna, not actually an AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyFlame/pseuds/JulyFlame
Summary: Questions on things like 'But how does Naruto have video cameras and instant ramen?' rely on the presumption that the Warring Clans Era/Warring States of Naruto is entirely technologically, socially, and culturally equivalent to the same time period as in the real world.Or, a fic in which Madara and the Senju brothers visit the capital of Fire, where there are modern conveniences and delights such as inside plumbing, electricity, and telephones. Hashirama loves it. Madara does not.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama & Senju Tobirama, Senju Hashirama & Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Madara
Comments: 7
Kudos: 15





	There'll Be Some Changes Made

**Author's Note:**

> There are a variety of people whom can be blamed for this happening, and it took about a full day's of writing from me before I could pry myself away to do other things, like work on the fic I'm supposed to be working on. There will be more, eventually.

Madara is beginning to feel the rare, creeping sensation of regret build in his chest, and it's a feeling he despises, almost as much as the feeling of not belonging, which was inescapable the moment their delegation passed through the gates into the capital.

He knows why he feels like he doesn't belong; the capital of Fire is dazzling with modern conveniences, filled with them to the point of unfamiliarity. The Uchiha clan compound is several hours away from the closest village that is large enough to have electric lighting and things like a telegraph station, much less a long-distance telephone line.

Madara glares at the black metal candlestick telephone on the table in the sitting room of their hotel suite. While the telephone hasn't wronged him specifically, it still stands for everything else that recently has.

The opulence of the suite is almost stifling, but their options were limited if they were to be taken seriously. The daimyo's ministers were the sort to look at everything with suspicion, which was why they were here weeks ahead of their appointment to ask for the grant of land for Hashirama's idea. Choosing a more modest inn on the outskirts or even outside of the city's walls would be questioned; if they couldn't afford better quarters with noble shinobi taking part in their delegation, how could they be expected to run a village under the daimyo? Being a 'noble' clan as considered by the daimyo's court was completely and utterly useless for shinobi except that it meant that they were expected to put on a front whenever they showed up in the capital and sometimes were considered the preferred options when the daimyo needed shinobi in the first place.

However much Madara is disgruntled by all of this— no armor, limited weapons, the inescapable curiosity of the hotel staff and local civilians in general— it's almost made up by how much more out of place and clearly uncomfortable _Tobirama_ is.

Madara's visited the capital before, albeit with staying in somewhat more modest quarters. He's vaguely familiar with how they do things here, with how tall buildings can be, civilian fashions when they aren't worried about violence or the next harvest, the sheer amount of effort put into making things as comfortable or convenient as possible.

Tobirama has been doing his best— and failing— to not look like a fish gasping for breath, out of place. Hashirama's enthusiasm was what it normally was; he had been to the capital as well, before. It was blatantly obvious, even without activating the Sharingan, that Tobirama never had. The usually repressed bastard of a Senju was barely keeping himself from being overwhelmed. Even now, as they wait for Hashirama, the man's red eyes flick towards the windows with every sudden normal but loud noise from the city outside. Occasionally it is the room's radiator that makes him start. Madara can catch Tobirama occasionally self-consciously touching the resewn sleeve hem of his haori. It was normal for shinobi to wear clothes that had repaired tears. Here, it had resulted in Tobirama being mistaken for a day laborer and almost getting escorted from the hotel before Madara had been forced to reluctantly intercede yesterday night.

Eventually, the sound of the shower in the bathroom adjoined to the room the Senju brothers are in stops, and not long after that, Hashirama enters the sitting room, hair only slightly damp from whatever jutsu he had abused to dry it, dressed in what Madara knows from multiple meetings they'd had as new clan heads brokering for peace is Hashirama's best clothing. By the capital's standards, it's shabby. He's still ruddy-faced from the hot water.

"It took you long enough," Madara snipes. There's no heat to his words though; he had spent a whole hour under the showerhead last night. Hashirama taking his time like he has this morning has no real impact; the capital wakes up in fits and starts, and very little that is important is even open at this hour of the morning.

Hashirama grins. "Not all of us use fire jutsu to warm water for bathing, Madara. It's nice to enjoy it while we can."

"You still promised to call Touka this morning, anija," Tobirama says, voice stiff.

"The telegraph office doesn't open for another fifteen minutes," Hashirama responds, eyes set on the clock hanging on the wall. "Besides, we have to go to the downstairs lobby for that." The hotel telephone system was split; the ones within the private suites and rooms could make simple calls within the hotel and even the capital's local exchanges with the assistance of the switchboard operators, but only the ground floor telephone lobby and reception desk were connected to the long-distance circuit. "I don't think we have anything else planned, do we?"

"Clothes shopping," Tobirama answers, resigned. Madara is as well.

He is, besides the Yamanaka clan members with them, the least worst dressed of the twenty-odd shinobi in their group. The fact that means he is in a long-dead great-uncle's kimono and hakama just underscores how badly off they are. _None_ of them are dressed well for the capital, much less for a meeting with the daimyo.

Eventually, they leave the suite, making their way to the elevator situated in the middle of the corridor. Hashirama hits the button, and they can hear the slightest chime of the bell. The doors split open, the floor of the elevator perfectly aligned with the corridor's, and the elevator operator greets them, asking which floor they would like to be taken to, the ground floor lobby, basement restaurant, the rooftop garden, or somewhere else?

Shinobi aren't meant for close quarters like this, and the descent from the ninth floor is uncomfortable, much more than the ascent last night was, when they were all tired and just wanted to sleep. Madara can only take comfort from the fact that Tobirama's grip on the handrail is white-knuckled and the younger man's usual arrogant expression has been totally dropped in favor of a neutral one. The battlefield is nothing, but apparently a mechanical lift operated by a woman slightly younger than him is enough to scare him.

When they leave the elevator, Tobirama skirts close to his brother.

The telephone hall filled with wall-mounted telephones is adjoined to the ground floor lounge, large clocks overhead keeping the time. A few of the telephones are already in use, largely by men who look like they have at least decade on either Madara or Hashirama, though one is being used by an older woman in a garish kimono, who is speaking loud enough that it's impossible to ignore the lecture she's delivering to either a son or son-in-law. He stays in range just long enough to hear Hashirama's faltering start with the operator.

"Hello…? Ah, yes… I'm aware, thank you. For room 913, under Senju Hashirama… It's to the Shingetsu Telegraph Office in Tanzaku-gai… Yes, I understand it will take time to connect the call..."

Madara isn't interested in eavesdropping on this conversation in case he needs to cut him off— even Hashirama isn't naive enough to babble in a building filled with absolute strangers— but instead heads into the lounge itself.

The quiet sound of a koto playing almost throws him off until he spies the phonograph, positioned just far enough into the room to be audible to anyone entering the space without disturbing anyone speaking on the telephones on the other side of the large open doors.

It's overly decorated, a sign of modern achievement, just like the rest of the hotel is. The light fixtures hanging from the ceiling are filled with hundreds of bulbs. They're currently unlit— the morning sun entering through the windows is more than adequate lighting when paired with the smaller table lamps— but they're still filled with more light bulbs and probably use more electricity than any of the villages Madara's ever been in use combined.

There is a bar at the other side of the room, and even though it has just turned eight in the morning, there are people sitting at it. Madara will never understand civilians.

Newspapers rest on tables scattered throughout the seating areas, and after a moment of holding off, he swipes one, if only to give it a cursory look through while he waits for the Senju brothers to finish.

He gets through two paragraphs of broad speculation on the apparent recent discovery of how to safely store blood, half a sentence from a society column on proper marriages, and most of a headline casting suspicion on imports from Lightning before he gives up entirely and drops it back where he found it, since he can't set it on fire.

Madara forces himself to do a slow, deliberate loop around the lounge instead, which only makes him feel more aggravated when he notices that the elderly men sitting in a corner of the room talking business and trade are dressed similarly to him.

Not wanting to sit down or stand awkwardly in there any longer, he stalks back into the telephone lobby to wait for Hashirama to finish up, alternating his gaze between Hashirama and the clocks on the wall.

Hashirama looks dazed by the time he's able to end the call. "It's fifty ryo a minute on either end…" He is smiling out of shock. The telephone call had lasted roughly ten minutes, by Madara's estimate. Without whatever other fees the hotel or telegraph office would add, that had just been a thousand ryo telephone call.

Tobirama's eyes widen. "That much?"

The three of them leave the hotel before it can extract more money from them.

**Author's Note:**

> Some idle notes regarding technology and how it compares to the real world:
> 
> Telephones could be found in luxury hotels at the turn of the 20th century.  
> Candlestick phones were common from the 1890s on.  
> Radiators became common in the late 1800s.  
> Water heaters were invented in the late 1800s.  
> Indoor plumbing became common in the latter half of the 19th century, and pretty much expected in, as an example, most buildings in New York City by 1910. It took much longer for things like toilets and hot and cold running water to become common outside of cities and towns.  
> Telegraph lines in the real world weren't just extensive by the end of the 19th century but were intercontinental.  
> Elevators became increasingly common and were paired as a necessity with increasing building size in the early 20th century and were frequently paired with elevator operators.  
> Long-distance calling took a little longer to catch on, and required manual connections (and was expensive).  
> Phonographs came into use in the mid-late 19th century, and records became common in the early 1900s for music.  
> Electric lighting had become common by the early 20th century in cities especially.


End file.
